The thing with writers is that there can be no boundaries. There can be no wall between thoughts and paper (or keyboard for that matter). I want to write something good for once, but I also don’t want to think of the thing that I’m going to write about. But I feel like I need to. To better myself and get it out. I’m going to write in vivid detail my feelings for Trey. Everything out and in the open. I will describe the things we did. Right now I think it’s good for me. Before I get into it, I’ll say a few words;
Trey Newsome, you fucking idiot--I do not hate you.
Now, let’s write…
I miss you right now.
Not sure if it’s you or what we could’ve been doing together but I really do miss you. I know the remedy for that is to think of all the bad things first, but there really wasn’t anything bad about you. Except that you hurt me in the end. You were too scared to try. You were too scared to get hurt. Now so am I.
I don’t know if I just miss the affection or you but I’m missing it a lot right now.
We could’ve been so good and I don’t understand why you were holding back so much.
And I don’t understand why you’re so cold to me now.
I don’t deserve that. And you know I don’t.
It makes me mad that if I think about moments between us, I can still smile.
I hate seeing you. I haven’t made eye contact with you since the day we stopped talking.
I try really hard not to look for you, cause I know you’re not worried about me anymore.
See, that’s not fucking fair.
You’re used to this and you can block me out fast, but I’m having a hard time doing that.
I need to cut you off completely. You’re already blocked in text and shit and already blocked on my spam account. I need to block you on my main. I’ve already deleted everything. Already burned holes in some of the memories and reminders. But it’s that notification I get when you look at my story. Admiring me and shit. Watching from a distance. That’s not fair. But I want you to see it. I want you to see I’m doing great and I don’t care because if I pretend enough I will.
That helped. That sentence helped a lot.
I’m gonna be okay because I don’t have to look at him like some wounded animal and try to excuse his behavior. That’s what I keep doing. And it’s gonna hurt when he moves on, that’s why I was in a big hurry to move on faster. But I don’t care what he sees and what he doesn’t see. I shouldn’t. It shouldn’t matter or be any of my business. He wasted my time. He’s not a wounded animal he’s a rabid dog. Someone will be what he needs and it will never be me.
He will never be what I needed him to be. He never will.
I don’t have time to miss him or worry about it. I have to go forward. I can’t be petty and there’s no real reason to be. I have to be about my business. Part of me wants him as at least a friend but that part isn’t ready for what she’s asking for--not yet anyway.
I’m gonna be a-o-fucking kay. I have to be.
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